


Prisoners Of Love

by jazztrousers



Category: Vikings (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Prison, M/M, orange is the new black AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-04
Updated: 2015-01-18
Packaged: 2018-03-05 09:19:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3114596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jazztrousers/pseuds/jazztrousers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Describe for me, if you would, how you came to be involved with Lothbrok’s cartel.”<br/>He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, feeling sweaty and nauseous. Athelstan stiffened his jaw and leaned forward on his elbows to speak into the microphone.<br/>“We were lovers,” he said, surprised at the bitterness he heard in his own voice.</p><p>aka that 'Orange is the New Black' AU that no-one asked for</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Athelstan is already waiting with a packed bag when the police arrive at his flat.

His head is bowed, his hands held up above it. He lets them handcuff him without a word, and only spares a quick glance back at his home as he is shepherded into the back of the police car.

Athelstan had known that this day would come eventually. If anything, he was surprised at how long it had taken for the consequences to find him.

 

 

“Commencing interview with inmate Athelstan Lindesfarne. Saturday, April ninth, 2pm.”

Athelstan looked up at the officer sitting opposite him at the table, speaking into a recording device. He had shrewd eyes, but a kind face. His nametag read, ‘Ecbert’.

“You are serving a minimum sentence of five years in Her Majesty’s prison, on the charges of money laundering and conspiracy to drug trafficking. Your sentence was shortened as you pleaded guilty. Is that correct?”

He nodded.

“Lindesfarne was part of an illegal drug cartel, and worked closely underneath its leader, Ragnar Lothbrok,” Ecbert added to the audio record.

Athelstan felt his lip curl involuntarily at the words “ _closely underneath_ ”. He tried to cover it up by taking a sip of water from the plastic cup in front of him.

“Inmate-” Ecbert began, and then softened his tone with a smile, “ _Athelstan_. Describe for me, if you would, how you came to be involved with Lothbrok’s cartel.”

He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, feeling sweaty and nauseous.

Athelstan stiffened his jaw and leaned forward on his elbows to speak into the microphone.

“We were lovers,” he said, surprised at the bitterness he heard in his own voice.

 

* * *

 

 

“I’ve never seen anyone here take an ass-kicking with such a zen look on their face. If you don’t start fighting back a bit, you’re going to end up looking even worse…”

Athelstan sighed at his reflection in the mirror. There were bruises under both of his eyes, and his lip was still sticky and oozing with blood.

“I don’t like fighting, Floki.”

A giggle came from the top bunk, where Floki was painting his nails black with a marker.

Athelstan continued washing his face at the basin, the cold water grounding him and making him feel less dizzy. There was silence for a little while, aside from the splashes of water.

“Standing up for yourself is important in here,” Floki said after a while, seemingly thinking aloud. “If you don’t fight back, you’ll be perceived as weak.”

“You can be strong without giving in to violence.” Athelstan said resolutely, absently rubbing at his chest through his prison uniform. They’d confiscated his crucifix.

“Of course you can,” Floki agreed.

There was another gap of silence.

“Being another man’s bitch is what got you in here in the first place, right? Why stop now, eh?”

Athelstan turned around to face his cellmate, nostrils flaring angrily.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he snapped.

It had barely been a week and already prison was changing Athelstan. Normally he was patient and calm in the face of ridicule. Now, sleep deprived and aching, he had a short fuse.

“Is that why you won’t fight back?” Floki continued, still lying in bed. “You _want_ to get held down and fucked in the ass?”

That was too much. That was one hundred percent too much.

“I’m going to the gym,” Athelstan said through gritted teeth.

 _Don’t think about it_ , he scolded himself as he walked down the corridor. _Don’t think about Ragnar_.

 

* * *

 

 

 _This must be what drowning feels like_ , Athelstan thought deliriously as a boot collided with his ribcage. He tried to breathe but only a rattling gasp came out.

He’d tried to fight back this time, honestly he had. But there were too many of them, and there was only one of him. Athelstan had gotten in one solid punch before he was on the ground, and he could be proud of that.

 _The Lord is my shepherd_ , his brain provided for some reason. _He makes me lie down in pastures green._

Blood trickled out past his lips and stained the floor like spilled wine. His attackers jeered and spat on him as they beat him.

 _Please just let me die_ , Athelstan prayed silently. Another kick caught him in the stomach, and a single tear rolled off the end of his nose.

“Hey! Break it up!” A voice in the distance bellowed. Athelstan recognised the voice, but could not place it. One of the guards?

“He’s mine!” the voice growled, met with groans of disappointment from the men above him.

 _Great_ , Athelstan thought, trying to look up through swollen eyelids. _They’re fighting over who gets to kill me? Are they fighting over my corpse, like a trophy?_

He saw the group who’d jumped him retreat, and then the mysterious new person was crouching over Athelstan.

He didn’t recognise him at first, he was still reeling from the pain of the attack.

But then, all at once, it all came rushing back to him.

 

_Hi. Can I buy you a drink?_

_You’re gorgeous._

_I have to go on a business trip, come with me._

_I love you._

_Can you hide this for me?_

 

“Don’t worry, they’re gone. Can you move? Try to sit up.” Ragnar said gently.

Ragnar, who had even more tattoos, but had cut off his ponytail.

Ragnar, who’d broken his heart.

Ragnar, who had brought Athelstan into his own personal hell.

 

The last thing Athelstan was aware of was hearing himself screaming.

 


	2. Chapter 2

“Guys, you’ve gotta see this! Lindesfarne went nuts, he’s squaring up to Lothbrok!”

“Floki’s new celly?”

“That guy’s a pussy!”

“He’s got a lot of balls taking on Lothbrok.”

“He must have snapped and gone crazy!”

“Holy shit, it’s gonna be a bloodbath!”

The men threw down their playing cards and followed Arne who’d burst into one of the communal areas to tell them the news. Sure enough, in the lunch hall a crowd was forming around the two men, murmuring and whispering.

“It’s good to see you too,” Ragnar teased, getting a few laughs from the men behind him.

“It’s—you—You did this to me!” Athelstan yelled. He was red in the face and trembling.

“Hey, I’m in here too, aren’t I? Call it even.”

“ _Even_!? You ruined my fucking life!!”

There was an audible “oooh” from the crowd.

“Yeah, well you fucked things up for me too, so don’t start that.” Ragnar said, but he sounded less confident than before. “You bailed on me- on the whole operation.”

“I was just trying to fight my way out of the mess you created.” Athelstan spat.

“You’re a fucking coward.” Ragnar accused.

Athelstan roared and surged forward, swinging his fists in a blind rage. He was still a bloodied mess from his earlier altercation, but he didn’t care. He felt every ounce of pain, sadness, anger and bewilderment that Ragnar had caused him surging up within him, and now he was going to rain it down upon Ragnar’s head in full.

 

* * *

 

 

Athelstan was given 3 days in solitary confinement.

With nothing to do and no-one to talk to, his mind became like an echo chamber, where his thoughts had room to bounce off each other, getting louder and louder as they repeated themselves in the darkness.

No, he thought, his mind was more like a cinema, but a bad cinema that only played one movie, over and over again, to a weeping audience of one.

 

 

_“I can’t drink while I’m working, but thanks anyway,” Athelstan said with a smile, topping up a mixed drink with a splash of lemonade._

_“That’s boring. Tell me your name, at least!” The man with the odd shaved-head-and-ponytail-combo reached over the bar to shake Athelstan’s hand. “I’m Ragnar.”_

_“Athelstan. Sorry, my hand is probably really sticky with beer…”_

_“It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Ragnar said._

_Ragnar had the most hypnotising smile Athelstan had ever seen. And working behind the bar at a pub to put himself through university, he got smiled at a lot._

 

The chemistry had been instant, and immense. Ragnar was funny, sharp, intelligent, and scorchingly hot in bed. Athelstan had no idea he could be so thoroughly consumed by infatuation—he tells himself now that it was infatuation, and not love.

He would have done anything for Ragnar.

Unfortunately, Ragnar knew this.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“I was very surprised to hear about you fighting,” Ecbert said, with a look of genuine disappointment.

Athelstan looked around at Ecbert’s office. He had a lot of Greco-Roman art, and a few plants.

“You could have told me I’d be in prison with Ragnar.” he said sullenly.

“We aren’t allowed to disclose information like that to inmates. I’m sorry it was such a shock for you,” Ecbert said, with an open-handed gesture.

“It’s fine. I’m over it now.”

“I really hope so. The last thing you want to do is open up old wounds, you know?”

Athelstan looked up at Ecbert, frowning. “What do you mean?”

“Prison can be a very lonely place. Men have needs, even smart men like you. And I know that you and Ragnar used to be…” he made a few more vague gestures.

“Ragnar ruined my life.” It seemed to be his mantra in this place.

“So don’t let him do it again.”

Athelstan shrugged.

“I mean it, Lindesfarne. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll avoid Ragnar Lothbrok at all costs.”

 

When Athelstan went back to his cubicle, Floki and a few other inmates he vaguely recognised were waiting for him.

“That was pretty hardcore, Lindesfarne.”

“Why didn’t you do that on your first day?”

“I can’t believe you used to roll with Lothbrok. You seem so goody-goody.”

Floki waved his hands, shooing the men out. “Arne, Leif, Torstein, leave us. He’s probably still freaked out from solitary.”

Athelstan laid down on his bed, arms behind his head. “Thanks, Floki.”

“Not much happens in this place. Big drama like you caused is the best entertainment around.”

“Well, it won’t be happening again.”

Floki seemed pensive again. “Lothbrok is pretty influential in here. He’d be a good ally, if you and he can reconcile your differences.”

“Ecbert said I should just avoid him.”

“Pardon my French, but fuck Ecbert.”

Athelstan chuckled, and sat up in bed to face Floki. “Why do you say that?”

“I just… don’t trust him.” was the only answer he got.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look at the [amazing artwork](http://41.media.tumblr.com/64146cd170764af3ccf08d16e94a549e/tumblr_nk6mwlCNFl1ra8q4lo1_500.jpg) for this chapter by the wonderful [mrgabel](http://mrgabel.tumblr.com/)!


	3. Chapter 3

“Wearing a suit is such a pain, I hate working these black-tie events…”

Ragnar looked up from the travel documents on his laptop and whistled appreciatively at Athelstan, who’d just come in from work. He’d worn a slim-fitting shirt and pants, with a waistcoat and tie. His hair was pulled back in a dishevelled ponytail.

“It looks good,” Ragnar said, putting his laptop aside and sitting against the headboard of the bed. “I mean, you look more like a hipster than ever, but you’re cute enough to get away with it.”

Athelstan chuckled and loosened his tie. “Thank you, I think.”

Ragnar seemed to be watching him undress, and that was fine with Athelstan. Ragnar was the first person to ever make him feel sexually confident, it had helped Athelstan to shake off the guilt and awkwardness he felt around his own needs, and even be seductive.

He turned on the stereo on the dresser, and chose some music. Then, swaying a little to the beat, he pulled his tie off, and began to slowly slide his waistcoat off his shoulders.

Ragnar licked his lips from the bed. “God, I’m going to miss you.”

Grinning, Athelstan let his waistcoat fall to the floor, and almost coyly undid the top button of his shirt. In the dim lamplight of their bedroom, the crucifix around his neck glimmered.

“You’re too fucking much, I swear. Come here.”

Athelstan only shrugged and continued rolling his hips to the lazy melody, popping open another two buttons, so that his shirt was open down to his stomach. He didn’t have much experience, but he still knew how to tease Ragnar into a frenzy.

Ragnar fixed Athelstan with a piercing stare, and simply beckoned him with one finger. Ditching the shirt, Athelstan crawled onto the bed, wearing only his suit trousers. He couldn’t stop grinning.

“Come with me,” Ragnar said suddenly. He rose up onto his knees and ran a hand down Athelstan’s chest, damp with sweat from work. “I’ll buy you a ticket, come with me to Bali.”

Athelstan kissed Ragnar’s jaw, and murmured into his neck, “Are you serious?”

“Yes I’m serious. I want you to come.”

“I won’t have to get involved with anything though, right?”

Ragnar dragged Athelstan closer and soon had him pinned to the headboard. “No. You’ll just be there to keep me company.”

His mouth was hot and wet on Athelstan’s collarbones and chest. Sucking and biting the skin in ways that made him gasp and shudder.

“I want you to come…” he growled, slipping a hand inside Athelstan’s expensive work pants, “…and I want you to _come_.”

Athelstan made a helpless sound into Ragnar’s mouth and tilted his hips against the rough hand cupping him.

“Is that a yes?” Ragnar smiled. “Say yes.”

“ _Yes_ ,” Athelstan groaned, eyes rolling. “Oh god, yes.”

 

__

 

“Hey, other people need to use the showers! Jack off on your own time!”

Athelstan mumbled an apology as he slipped out of the shower cubicle, wrapping a towel around his waist. Prison showers always seemed to be cold.

Making his way through the communal bathrooms, he spotted Ragnar at one of the sinks, brushing his teeth. Athelstan felt a tinge of shame as he noticed the bandages covering most of Ragnar’s nose- not that Ragnar hadn’t deserved it, but Athelstan used to pride himself on being a pacifist.

He used to pride himself on a lot of things, before he met Ragnar.

“Please, don’t kill me!” Ragnar joked, holding up his toothbrush in supplication.

Athelstan sighed. “I’m not angry any more, don’t worry. I shouldn’t have hit you.”

“You went pretty savage. I was kind of impressed.”

He chuckled at that, and rubbed a hand through his wet hair. “It’s my own fault I’m here. Yes, you were my way in, but you never forced me into anything. I chose to get in as far as I did.”

Ragnar nodded. “I understand why you left when you did. I would have done the same.”

Athelstan nodded back.

“So, no more hitting?” Ragnar suggested, offering him a handshake.

Athelstan accepted, and shook firmly. “No more hitting. I didn’t like it in solitary.”

“It eats away at your fucking soul, right?”

“That’s putting it mildly.”

“Still, you’ve always got God to talk to, right?”

“I, uh…” Athelstan pulled his towel a little tighter around himself. “I don’t really do that any more.”

Ragnar looked like he was about to say something, but then quickly changed his mind.

“Inmate,” a came a bored voice from behind Athelstan, “You need to report for work placement in ten minutes. Hurry it up.”

He nodded at the guard- a sallow-faced man with greasy hair and a nametag that said ‘Aelle’ – and turned back to Ragnar.

“I’ll see you around, I suppose.”

“You bunk with Floki, right? I’ll come say hi to you both later.”

 

__________

 

“Gather around, boys. I’m Lagertha, and I’m in charge of this shit-show.”

Athelstan looked through the group of inmates to the front of the room, where the tall, blonde guard stood.

“Whilst on work placement in my maintenance department, you will need to be ready and trained to fix anything and everything that breaks down, falls apart, gets gum stuck in it, or gets smashed to bits in a fit of impotent rage.”

The workshop was fitted with a display of tools, which Lagertha gestured to with a graceful curve of her arm. “If you need to use something, you’ve gotta sign it out in the log book. If it doesn’t get signed back in, that’s on you, and I don’t need to tell you what happens to inmates who are found with anything that might be considered a weapon. Yes?”

There was a murmur of agreement amongst the inmates. Lagertha narrowed her eyes dangerously.

“ _Yes_?” she repeated.

“Yes, ma’am,” came the fervent reply.

“Great!” she said with a smile. “Let’s get familiar with our tools.”

 

___

 

Athelstan was looking through the inventory list in the log book when Lagertha approached him.

“You’re the one that went crazy and hit Ragnar Lothbrok, aren’t you?”

He nodded with a gulp.

“Good for you. He’s got an ego the size of a small planet.”

Athelstan laughed and ducked his head. “Yes, he really has.”

Lagertha regarded him thoughtfully, and Athelstan found himself trying not to squirm. She was beautiful, yes, but also intimidating.  He got the impression that if an inmate – or any man, probably – made a false move, she’d have them curled up in a ball, begging for their life, in less than thirty seconds flat.

“Ecbert seems to like you. I can see why.” Lagertha finally said.

Athelstan wasn’t really sure how to respond to that, so he just smiled and nodded again.

“Get back to work, inmate.”

                                                                                                                                                                

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you enjoyed the mental image of Athelstan in a fancy bartending suit, I just want you to know that I originally planned on him wearing [Piper's outfit from the original scene.](http://kissthemgoodbye.net/orangeisthenewblack/albums/ep1/Orange_Is_the_New_Black_s01e01_KissThemGoodbye_net_0333.jpg) *double thumbs up*


	4. Chapter 4

Athelstan held up the product of his afternoon’s work. It was several pieces of printer paper taped together into a banner, with “ _Congratulations Leif_!” in calligraphic script.

“Do you think he’ll like it?” he asked Torstein, who was setting up the PA system, using more duct tape on the wiring than looked completely safe.

Torstein looked up and nodded in approval. “Hey, that’s pretty good! Where’d you learn to do that?”

“Church.”

“You’re Christian?”

“Catholic,” Athelstan said glumly.

“Ouch. How’d your folks take you being locked up?”

“Haven’t spoken to them in years.”

“I’m sorry, man.” Torstein sympathised. “You still go to church?”

“No.”

“Just as well, prison chapel’s where people go to fuck.”

Athelstan laughed, despite himself.

“Hello boys!” Floki called from the doorway, and came to join the two in the ‘designated party area’. “Would you like to see what I’ve got in my trousers?”

“Hey man, we’re not in the chapel now.”

“Shut up Torstein, and look at this.”

Reaching up one leg of his regulation sweatpants, Floki pulled out an unmarked plastic bottle filled with brown liquid. “For Leif’s getting out party,” he explained.

“You made pruno? Nice!” Torstein enthused. “Is it any good?”

“What’s pruno?”

Both men turned to look at Athelstan, and Floki’s smile turned sinister.

“What’s pruno, he asks. Shall we educate the ignorant newcomer?”

Athelstan accepted the bottle, and removed the lid. The smell strongly reminded him of shoe polish.

“When did you make this?” he asked Floki, stalling for time.

“I work in the kitchen, it was easy for me to throw it together. I think this batch is some of my finest work.”

He raised the bottle to his lips, had a tiny mouthful, and immediately gagged. It tasted like vomit, and mouthwash, and rotting fruit, but mostly vomit, with perhaps a note of cheese.

“How strong is it?” Torstein asked Floki over the sound of Athelstan’s spluttering.

“Hard to say, but I think it’s stronger than last time. I threw in some of those candies Aelle sometimes has, the extra sugar sped up the fermentation nicely.”

“Oh, that’s a nice touch. I’m sure Leif will be happy.”

 

* * *

 

 

_“Another margarita?” Ragnar offered, holding up the pitcher. Behind him, the beach stretched out to the glittering sea._

_“Yes, a big one,” Athelstan said, holding out his glass. “I don’t think my heart rate was below a hundred at any point during that flight.”_

_Ice cubes clinked as Ragnar topped up his beverage. “You’re the best. The absolute best. I hope you don’t have any plans while we’re here, because I’m going to spoil you rotten.”_

_“That’s all well and good, but don’t ask me to do it again…”_

_Ragnar widened his eyes and looked sad. “Really? Because I was just telling Haraldson on the phone how kickass you were at smuggling the cash. You don’t want to make me look bad, do you?”_

_Athelstan tried to give Ragnar a stern look but he was still a little high from the adrenaline rush, and bordering on tipsy._

_“Admit it, it was the naughtiest thing you’ve ever done.”_

_“No, it’s not.”_

_“It’s not?”_

_Athelstan smiled with one corner of his mouth. “Of course not. You are.”_

_Ragnar pushed him down in the sand and kissed him._

* * *

 

 

“You guys did this for me? Man, I’m gonna cry!”

Leif looked around at the lunch hall’s ‘party décor’, which mainly consisted of toilet paper hanging like streamers, posters decorated by the inmates on the walls, and a table with snacks and drinks from the commissary. Athelstan had hung his banner up in one of the windows, and Torstein had set up a small dancefloor by the speaker system, which started up playing music when Leif entered.

Athelstan spotted Ragnar over by the drinks table, talking to Floki.

“It tastes like drinking cat’s piss from an old shoe,” he was saying, gesturing with a soda can that definitely did not have soda inside it.

“Well I’m sorry it isn’t to your _refined_ taste. You liked it, didn’t you, Lindesfarne?” Floki asked as Athelstan walked over them, nibbling a cookie.

He smiled and gestured to where Leif was dancing with Arne and a few others. “Isn’t it nice he’s getting out?”

“No, it isn’t.” Floki sneered, “it just serves as a reminder to the rest of us how long we have left here.”

“When I get out of here,” Ragnar announced loudly, “I’m going to ask Lagertha out.”

“Shut up, Lothbrok.” Lagertha called from where she was standing, supervising the party with Ecbert.

“What will you do when you get out, Floki?” Athelstan asked.

Floki’s face melted into a dreamy smile. “Why, I will marry my beautiful Helga. We’ll get a house together, and maybe we’ll have a child.”

“That sounds wonderful,” he said earnestly, deciding not to ask if Helga knew about Floki’s regular visits to the prison chapel with Torstein.

The track that had been playing from the music system ended, and when the next one began, Ragnar chuckled. “Damn, this one takes me back. Athelstan, remember when this song came out? We were in Costa Rica and every fucking bar was playing this song?”

Athelstan laughed. “How could I forget?”

“Come on, let’s dance!” Ragnar grabbed Athelstan by the arm and dragged him over to the dance area.

“I can’t dance!” he protested, trying to pull away.

“Yes you can! What about that time you did all those tequila shots and bellydanced on that table?”

“I don’t remember that.”

“Maybe not, but you still did it. You took your shirt off and everything.”

“That definitely never happened.”

“Come on, dance with me…” Ragnar pleaded, moving his body to the beat.

“Alright, alright,” Athelstan conceded, nodding his head a few times and letting his arms swing free.

They laughed as they danced, and as the song progressed they seemed to be getting more and more into the other’s personal space, until they were almost dancing chest-to-chest. The other inmates seemed to notice, a few whistling and cheering raucous encouragement. Ragnar, never missing an opportunity to show off, spun Athelstan around and started exaggeratedly grinding up against his back. Athelstan grinned and pushed back against him, rolling his body like a drunk girl at a club. This was met with more catcalls and laughter, until there was a shout from the other end of the hall.

“Lothbrok! Get over here, now!” Ecbert demanded, striding over to the partygoers.

Ragnar stepped away from Athelstan, and smiled impishly like a schoolboy in trouble. “Is there a problem, sir?”

Ecbert did not share his amusement. “Do you think it’s appropriate to sexually assault other inmates?”

“What?”

“We were just dancing, he didn’t—“ Athelstan began.

“You shut your mouth, inmate, unless you want to go back to solitary. Lagertha, please escort Lothbrok back to his cell.”

“But sir, I didn’t see him do anything I would classify—“

“ _Now_!” Ecbert bellowed, red in the face.

“It’s alright. I’ll go. Always a pleasure, Lagertha.” Ragnar said calmly as he left Athelstan standing in the middle of the dancefloor, bewildered.

The party atmosphere was somewhat dampened after that.

 


	5. Chapter 5

 “I need to get back to maintenance.”

Ecbert leaned back in his chair. “Of course, I just wanted to make sure you were alright after yesterday.”

Athelstan looked up from his faded regulation shoes. “I’m fine,” he said coldly.

 “I did warn you to stay away from Ragnar Lothbrok,” Ecbert continued. “Of course, I’m not saying what happened was your fault—“

“We were _dancing_ ,” Athelstan seethed. “It was a _party_.”

“It’s important that we don’t sweep it under the rug, Athelstan. He tried to rape you.”

Athelstan stood up. His chair clattered to the ground behind him. “That’s a lie and you know it is.”

“Sit down, inmate.”

He leaned forward, placing both of his palms flat on Ecbert’s desk. “Ragnar did not try to do anything to me,” he said with a calmness he definitely did not feel, “and even if he had tried to do something to me, it couldn’t have been rape.”

Ecbert’s eyes bored into Athelstan’s. Athelstan knew he had already gone way too far, and did not see any point in stopping now.

“It couldn’t have been rape, because you can’t rape a person who gives their _full, enthusiastic consent_.”

Ecbert glared, and Athelstan responded with a twisted parody of a smile. It was the smile of a man who had nothing left to lose.

“Do you really think consent matters to a convicted murderer, Athelstan?” Ecbert asked mildly. “Do you really think _you_ matter to a man like Ragnar Lothbrok?”

“Maybe not,” Athelstan admitted, standing up straight and taking steps to the door. “But it was my decision to get involved with him. “Maybe I don’t have the guts to kill a man, but I’m still a convict, aren’t I? I’m no better than anyone else here.”

“Get out of my office, Lindesfarne. I’ve half a mind to have you admitted to the psych ward.”

He left.

 

* * *

 

 

Ragnar shook Athelstan awake. “Get up. We need to pack our shit and leave, we need to get out of here right the fuck now.”

“What…? Why? What’s… happening?” Athelstan sat up in bed, squinting as Ragnar turned on all of the lights in their hotel suite. The clock on the bedside table read four am.

“The deal went sour. The whole thing got fucked up,” Ragnar panted, stuffing clothes into his suitcase. “I’ve found us a place we can lie low, our flight leaves in two hours.”

As his eyes focused, Athelstan noticed that the front of Ragnar’s shirt was spotted with blood.

“What did you do, Ragnar?” he asked hoarsely.

“It doesn’t matter. Get dressed, we need to go.”

Athelstan got out of bed and positioned himself in front of Ragnar, who still could not look him in the eye.

“Ragnar,” he said, placing a hand on his arm, “I need you to tell me what happened.”

Ragnar gazed at Athelstan with a numb look in his eyes. “Haraldson was freaking the buyers out. Paranoid, he was always paranoid. They were starting to get angry, and he wasn’t backing down, I knew if I let him keep running his mouth they were going to hurt us…”

Athelstan stepped away from Ragnar. “No,” he whispered. His head was spinning.

“I had to do it!” Ragnar shouted. “He was a danger to the operation, a danger to me, a danger to himself—“

“So you _killed_ him!?”

“Athelstan, don’t. Okay? Just don’t.”

“I’m leaving,” he said resolutely, and started gathering up his things.

“The flight will take us into Denmark, we can lie low—“

“No, Ragnar, I mean I’m going home. I’m done.”

Ragnar stopped in his tracks, looking bewildered. “What do you mean you’re _done_? We’re in this together, right?”

“That was before you did this! I’m sorry Ragnar, but I need to be away from you right now. I’m going back to London.”

Ragnar knocked the things Athelstan was holding out of his hands. Sunscreen leaked into the hotel room carpet. “You can’t leave me. Not now. I need you.”

“You need me?” Athelstan asked incredulously. “You need me for what? To make you feel better about these things that you’re doing? To help you forget?”

“Did you think that drug trafficking is all fun vacations and adventures? Are you really that naïve?”

Athelstan bit the inside of his cheek, and looked away from Ragnar.

“Of course you fucking are. What am I saying? You’re the most sheltered person I’ve ever met- ‘Please don’t tell my parents I work at a pub, they don’t allow me to listen to rock music, it’s the devil’s music’…” Ragnar continued, raising his voice into a mocking imitation of Athelstan.

“They disowned me because of you! I gave up everything to be with you!”

“And now you’re just gonna throw that away?”

“Yes.” Athelstan picked up his passport from the dresser and stuffed it inside his pocket. “Goodbye, Ragnar.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Well well, if it isn’t the maintenance man!” Ragnar chuckled, leaning against the wall with a stack of folded towels under his arm.

Athelstan adjusted his tool belt. “Lagertha said one of the dryers is broken.”

“It is,” Ragnar nodded, and then grinned. “But I don’t have any money to pay you, sir…”

“I’m sure we can work something out.” Athelstan found himself grinning too.

“How about I let you jerk off all over my big, natural tits? Would that about cover the cost?”

Athelstan covered his face with his hands. “Oh my god, Ragnar, no. That’s awful.”

“Too hetero?”

“Just show me where the dryer is.”

Ragnar led Athelstan to the back of the laundry department. With all of the dryers running, it was stiflingly hot, and very noisy.

“It’s this one, on the left.”

Athelstan crouched down to take a look at the machine. The door had been torn clean off the hinges. “I should be able to fix it,” he said, pulling a packet of screws from a belt compartment.

“Lagertha’s beaten some skill into you, I see.” Ragnar said, sitting on the cool floor opposite Athelstan. “How did it go with Ecbert?”

“I gave him a piece of my mind.”

“Did you cry?”

“Shut up, Ragnar. I told him you didn’t do anything to me that I wasn’t happy with.”

Ragnar laughed. “But you’re his precious innocent flower!”

“Once,” Athelstan said, turning the screwdriver in his hand. “But not his. And not any more.”

“So you were my innocent flower, is that it?”

“I suppose I was. But then you deflowered me.”

“Someone had to,” Ragnar said, kneeling only a few inches away from Athelstan.

Athelstan put down his tools. “I’m glad it was you - even if it did put me in here. At least I did something sort of cool with my boring life.”

“Bullshit,” Ragnar murmured, leaning in to Athelstan’s space. “You’ll never be cool.”

Athelstan tugged Ragnar against him by his sweater, and kissed him like the sun kisses the face of a free man.

 


	6. Chapter 6

Athelstan rose early, made himself some awful coffee, and got busy re-arranging his cell. It wasn’t exactly messy, but he felt he could maximise the space by stacking his books vertically against the wall, rather than horizontally on the shelf. Perhaps later he’d see what art supplies the commissary stocked, probably just pens and paper, Athelstan assumed, but perhaps with some string he could bind the paper together into a sketchbook. He hummed a little tune to himself as he tidied, between sips of acidic coffee.

A huff came from the top bunk. “Lindesfarne, stop being so fucking _chipper_.”

“Good morning, Floki!” Athelstan placed a foot on the metal ladder separating him and his cellmate. “I made coffee, would you like some?”

Floki scowled from underneath his thin blanket. “I’d like for you to shut up before I come down there and kill you.”

“More for me, then!” he chuckled, and went back to alphabetising his books.

“God, you’re so annoying,” Floki muttered sleepily. “Prancing around like you just got a double-decker blowjob with a cherry on top.”

Athelstan dropped his copy of _Charlemagne: Father of a Continent_ on his bare foot and swore.

Floki leaned up on one elbow and leered from ear to ear.

“What?”

“Don’t give me ‘what’, you cheeky little weasel! Sneaking off to _canoodle_ with Lothbrok. I knew it!”

“I have _not_!” Athelstan lied, trying to sound affronted, but it was unconvincing.

Floki reached down from his bunk like a monkey hanging from a branch. He poked Athelstan in the forehead. “I don’t believe you.”

Athelstan looked around before leaning in, lowering his voice. “Please don’t tell anyone.”

“I won’t tell anyone,” Floki giggled, “ _you’re_ the one that’s giving it away. Literally.”

He couldn’t help but smile. Since his tryst with Ragnar in the laundry room the day before, Athelstan had been feeling energetic and sort of… tingly. Perhaps it was lust, or maybe just a respite from the crushing loneliness of prison, but he was starting to remember why he’d fallen in love with Ragnar all those years ago, and the rush it had given him then was just as addictive now.

His giddy feeling quickly wilted when Aelle bustled into their cubicle.

“Inmate, why aren’t you at visitation?”

“Visitation?”

Aelle nodded like he was speaking to a child. “Yes. _Visitation._ ”

“Why would I be there?”

“Are you deaf or just stupid? You have a visitor. Some woman is here to see you.”

Floki raised his eyebrows at Athelstan, who could only give a clueless shrug in response. It couldn’t be his mother or sister, they’d cut off contact with him when they found out about Ragnar- Athelstan being in prison was hardly likely to improve their opinion of him as a wayward sinner.

He followed Aelle out to the visitation area, chewing his lip. Perhaps it was some kind of mistake.

 

* * *

_“You look sad,” a voice from Athelstan’s side interjected. “Is everything okay?”_

_He looked up with bleary eyes. Athelstan was jetlagged, back in England less than two days, and had already drunk a bottle of wine whilst reading in the corner of the pub._

_The voice belonged to a pretty girl with dark hair and a delicate smile, and Athelstan found he was too tired to lie to her._

_“Yeah,” he admitted. “I’m not having a great day. Or a great week.”_

_She placed a hand on his arm. Her nails were painted the same sparkling green as her eyes. “I’m sorry to hear that. Do you wanna come sit with us?”_

_She gestured to a group of girls at another table, sharing a jug of some sort of cocktail, and Athelstan shook his head glumly. “Thanks, but I think I’d probably ruin the mood.”_

_Her laugh was like the tinkling of a bell. “We outnumber you! One man can’t bring down a group of girls, but I bet a group of girls can cheer up one man.”_

_Athelstan thought about it. His bottle of wine was nearly empty. “Okay,” he agreed._

 

* * *

 

 

“Thyri,” Athelstan said numbly as he sat down opposite her. “What’re you doing here?”

Thyri’s face crumpled, as if seeing him was painful. “When I heard what happened, I had to come and see for myself.”

“Well, here I am.”

“Athelstan, I’m so sorry,” she said, putting a hand to her mouth. “You don’t deserve this. None of it.”

He shrugged. “I broke the law.”

“You’re not a _criminal_. You’re a nice guy, the nicest guy I’ve ever met...”

“I am a criminal,” Athelstan said flatly. “I’m a convict. Not a nice guy.”

Athelstan found himself looking around the visitation area at the other inmates. A few yards away was Ragnar, who was sitting with a man Athelstan had never met, but knew was Ragnar’s brother, Rollo. Ragnar talked about him a lot, they had a difficult relationship. Athelstan could relate to that, being the youngest of his siblings and the black sheep of the family. Ragnar and Rollo seemed to be getting along, their conversation was punctuated with bursts of laughter.

Athelstan looked back at Thyri and smiled weakly at her. “Are you eating enough?” she asked.

“I’m eating as much as I can make myself. The food is disgusting.”

“But you’re keeping out of trouble, aren’t you?”

He scratched the back of his head. “More or less. I ended up in solitary in my first week, but other than that I’ve been quite good I think.”

“They put you in _solitary confinement_?” Thyri gasped, “They can’t do that, can they?”

“I beat up another inmate,” he said, and she began to cry.

 

* * *

 

 

When he trudged into Ecbert’s office, Athelstan found Lagertha sitting in Ecbert’s place, with her feet up on the desk. “Surprise!”

“Lagertha? I thought I’m supposed to be seeing Ecbert now.”

“He’s transferred you to my caseload, so from now on you’ll be seeing me as your counsellor.”

He nodded, and took a seat. “Good.”

“You know, it was strange you were his to begin with. Usually inmates are assigned to the person who runs their work placement.”

“ _Really_ ,” Athelstan said sourly. Lagertha snorted with laughter at his expression.

“So how was visitation?”

“Strange,” Athelstan admitted. “My ex-girlfriend came to see me.”

“Surely that’s nice of her?”

“We haven’t talked in months. Why show up now I’m in prison?”

“Hmm,” Lagertha pondered, spinning a pen between her fingertips. “Maybe she thinks you’re sexy and rebellious now. Speaking of which, how are things with you and Ragnar Lothbrok?”

“Not bad.” Athelstan answered, putting every ounce of concentration he had into sounding casual about it.

“You’re getting along better?”

“Yep,” he nodded.

Lagertha took her boots off Ecbert’s paperwork and sat up straight, staring Athelstan down until he felt an inch tall. “If I were you, I wouldn’t lie to a woman who can rip the door off an industrial dryer with her bare hands.”

 

 


	7. Chapter 7

_Joseph's master took him and put him into the prison, the place where the king's prisoners were confined, and he was there in prison. But the Lord was with Joseph and showed him steadfast love and gave him favour in the sight of the keeper of the prison._

The Bible lay open in Athelstan’s palms, heavy with fragile pages. He had not read these words in so long, and yet he found he still knew them. Genesis had once been a favourite of his, he remembered. It was full of the stories he loved the most as a child- God creating the earth, Noah’s ark, and the story of Abraham and the strange new land he travelled to. Athelstan liked to imagine God as a friendly, fatherly figure, although firm at times when his children on Earth needed it. Much nicer than his own father, who was prone to shouting and hitting.  But Athelstan had left his family in search of a different life, one where no-one yelled at him for asking too many questions.  

“Sorry I’m late.”

Athelstan quietly closed the Bible and put it back on the wooden pew, turning to smile at Ragnar.

Ragnar was a man who also liked to ask questions. He questioned the role he played in the universe, and dared to ask why he had to follow the path laid out for him. Ragnar made his own path, and hacked down anything in his way, with the sheer force of his will and cunning.

They ended up on the well-worn floorboards behind the chapel’s pulpit. Ragnar licked his way into Athelstan’s mouth and bit at his lips, while Athelstan made uncoordinated efforts to pull off Ragnar’s jumpsuit. In the time they’d been apart, Ragnar had gotten more tattoos, and Athelstan wanted to see them all, to learn them- he’d hardly been able to see anything in the darkened laundry room, with the sting of detergent in his nose and the wet slide of Ragnar’s lips around his cock. It had all been over far too quickly, a sort of necessary function that had to be gotten out of the way before anyone interrupted them.

But now there was plenty of time, and sunlight streamed in from the ceiling, making Ragnar’s eyes shine bright as Athelstan rolled on top of him. His mouth dragged in lazy appreciation over muscle and ink, kissing and tasting. In Athelstan’s eyes, Ragnar was the human embodiment of forbidden pleasure- he was the rush of stealing, the first glimpse of pornography, the taste of underage drinking, the sound of Led Zepplin on a Walkman hidden under bedsheets.  He was sin incarnate, he was everything Athelstan had been warned against, and with every god as his witness, Athelstan fucking _loved_ it. He loved Ragnar, he had never _stopped_ loving Ragnar.

Ragnar flipped Athelstan onto his back and pressed their bodies together, he sighed at the feeling and Athelstan groaned unstably. It was impossible to tell which of them began to move first, but they both were on the same page as they rocked and pushed against eachother. Athelstan brought his knees up and wrapped his legs around Ragnar’s back, writhing in his grasp like a trapped animal.

“Fuck,” Ragnar muttered, licking his lips. “I’ve missed this.”

Athelstan could only nod frantically and moan in agreement. A smile curled it way around Ragnar’s mouth.

“You have no idea,” Ragnar continued. “So many nights, I thought about you, remembered fucking you, remembered how you’re so fucking sweet and eager to please.”

It seemed beyond Athelstan to be self-conscious now. He felt like he was burning from the inside out, every twitch of his hips rubbed his cock against the taut muscle of Ragnar’s abdomen.

“Yeah,” he grunted, “I wanna please you. Anything you want.”

Ragnar’s grip on Athelstan turned from possessive to crushing. “This is all I want. _You’re_ all I want.”

“You have me,” he promised, “you have me, I’m yours…”

Athelstan worked a sweat-damp hand down, between their bodies and wrapped it around both of them. He jerked them both with a shaking hand, and when Ragnar bit a bruise into his shoulder, Athelstan screwed his eyes closed and gasped, convulsing.

 

* * *

 

 

“That seems like a really unwise amount of fruit cocktails,” Torstein said non-judgementally from across the table at lunch.

Athelstan looked down at his tray. He had seven cups of various fruit chunks in syrup. For the last week, he’d been waking in the middle of the night, painfully thirsty from the disgustingly over-salted prison food. His constant nocturnal trips to gulp at the water cooler had obviously caught his cellmate’s attention, and like a fool he’d asked Floki for something, anything, that didn’t have salt in the ingredients.

Seven cups of fruit was actually not a bad compromise, in truth. Knowing Floki’s sense of humour, Athelstan half-expected to be pelted with salt packets in the shower, or perhaps just given a glass of water for lunch, with a generous plateful of fresh air to go with it.

“I’m telling you man, if you eat all that, you’re gonna be spending the next two days in the bathroom.”

“As opposed to what?” Ragnar said, sitting down next to Athelstan, close enough that their elbows touched.  “Are they serving some kind of special food that _doesn’t_ make you sick?”

“The non-dysentery special. Seems like they ran out already.” Torstein laughed.

Ragnar shuffled up the bench as he ate, so his side was pressed up against Athelstan’s. They’d been more physical with each other lately, and nobody seemed to care, so they did not try to hide their relationship. “Do you want my fruit too?” Ragnar offered.

“No,” Athelstan said through a mouthful of canned peaches, “I think eight of these is a bit ambitious.”

“Okay,” Ragnar agreed, and the two shared a smile.

Torstein shook his head fondly and picked at his lunch. “You know they sell razors at the commissary, Lindesfarne? You and Lothbrok are starting to look like a Mumford and Sons tribute act.”

“I like him hairy!” Ragnar said, clapping Athelstan on the back, who almost choked on his fourth portion of pineapple.


End file.
